


Don't Leave the Windows Open

by jinkxtheroo



Category: Hermitcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-10-01 00:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20455844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinkxtheroo/pseuds/jinkxtheroo
Summary: Never stay up too late. Never trust anyone aside from your gut. Never let them talk to you and never raise your voice.After being bit harshly by an uncommon phantom, Grian ends up teaching the server these rules. Some don't go by them. Some see their blood on the floor.Remember rule one; don't leave the windows open.





	Don't Leave the Windows Open

**Author's Note:**

> hello! after quite some weeks of delay, don't leave the windows open is my first piece of fanfiction in the hermitcraft fandom! i hope you enjoy it, (it was hard to write this crap sjdçfdg)  
Please give me feedback and comments on how to improve this!  
[tw: blood]

It was a new moon when it happened. The stars on the sky were extremely dazzling that night, due to the lack of torches in the vicinity, a quite irresponsible decision at best. It was one of the most beautiful star-filled skies the man had ever experienced, the bright lights reflecting on his prismarine eyes like the color of the sea and on his own base’s blue windows that could be seen in the distance. It did look lovely, almost too lovely for what would lately happen in that background.

Going a little bit further in time, to the sunset where it all started, to the rose colored clouds pierced by rocket holes and the feeling you get when the day’s over, to the time ticking on a golden clock from afternoon to night. We go a bit further in time to this exact moment, where the short blonde had not yet gone home, waiting for the sun to then set sat in the concrete walls of the expanding Sahara. Ah, yes, this story starts with the construction of Sahara, although it has nothing to do with the final result of this tale.

Going back to that little creature sat in the ceiling, he couldn't sleep because thoughts targeted his mind like arrows. Thoughts that invaded whenever he saw that crude drawing in lime crayon he made to represent what would soon be the barriers of the quite pretentious automated shop. Limited blocks and resources and the time it would take to collect all of them ticked in his brain like a cuckoo, not letting him take his mind off the construction. He found himself unable to take flight while observing the luminous stars quickly appearing in the sky's perimeter, thinking of building shenanigans to resolve and how much it would take to create such an ambitious project. At least he didn't have to build the redstone for it. And speaking of which, how would the redstone even fit in those white headquarters? That was not his problem to solve. Yet he still considered it. His mind was truly off limits. He spiraled for until the night was on his peak, creating numerous outcomes in his mind, and although the moon was nowhere to be seen, the shadows it casted could be seen falling apart at the seams.

It would have been quite a pleasant night, even beyond the lack of dormant time present, if what started this story didn't ever appear. The object, the little thing that would not hesitate in start all catastrophic events did not look dangerous at first sight — in distances, it looked like a wondrous, skilled blue paper kite like those in ceremonial events. But would a ceremonial balloon or kite of sorts have deadly fangs and the taste for bloody death, these events would truly be recognized as massacres of sorts and not so much ceremonial in nature. The agile flying monstrosity we talk about, eyes green as emeralds and protruding deadly weapons from such a small mouth, is called by all a Phantom of the Night Sky. Or, to put it simply, a Phantom, and to put it even more simply, a bastard creature. These hazards would appear only when you haven't slept for three days, and you can guess who didn't have the minimal amount of sleep ever since this construction started.

So it obviously wasn't a surprise for Grian when the monsters started to appear, even if they were a little bit late. He could swing at them with a sword like second nature, as it was the second nature of everyone around him. While currently slashing these beasts, he looked at the communicator and saw only a dormant Xisumavoid. He hoped he wasn't being attacked by phantoms, too, but if he was away he should be safe anyways. He closed the crappy red Nokia, now currently being splattered with saturated green blood as the phantoms came and were slain. After a while, the sun was finally starting to show in peaks, and as the red sweater was wet and yucky from the phantoms' visceral remains, he decided to take a sit to watch the sun rise before immediately going to his base to take a bath.

The narrator of this story, or staying simple, me or anyone who’s decided to read this in my voice, know right from the start this was a massive red flag. Because deciding to kick his sword off his hand and decide to engage in morning sunlight looked like a good idea first, but the morning sun couldn't save him from what would happen next. It’s basic horror film knowledge, don’t stay in one place. Although, to be fair, the blondie didn’t exactly think of this as quite a thriller film atmosphere, sun out in the open and all. Do you remember what we said about Phantoms a while ago? Their deadly marble fangs whose only thirst is for player blood and player blood only? Their abilities to traverse through the dark to attack to achieve that only purpose? There is one thing I never told you, and that is — although phantoms burn in sunlight, that doesn't stop them from attacking. Because they don't have rational thinking like humans do. All they want is the sweet smell of death, doing everything achieve it, even attacking a player while burning in the verge of death. Their attacks are always unpredictable, and that’s why phantoms are dangerous. Not because of their teeth or their speed, it’s because they didn’t have a certain predictable mob pattern. He should have thought about that before staying up too late.

Grian wasn't expecting this. The painful bite, characteristic of phantoms, in his lower arm, followed by burn marks caused by the burning phantom in the sun. The unbearable pain and the terrifying feeling of being disarmed. As he looked through weapons to defend himself from that bite, trying to reach for his sword, he fell off the roof. The fall damage didn't even hurt him anymore, him being so accustomed to falling with wings on, but the pain of that bite was devastating. Way more than it should have been. Another red flag that he didn't learn from. Looking through his stuff, all he could reach was a flimsy trident that was there being junk as the phantom closed in. Before collapsing from pain, he impaled the beast, watching it die as it's corpse slides out of the weapon. He looked at himself.

Aside from the already nasty red sweater, he looked and felt like he had fell off into a pile of spikes. His lower left arm has bleeding all over, two little bruises the side of two little fangs pierced letting a sure unrealistic amount of blood. His nose was bleeding from falling head first into the ground from the high frame he just was in, but no major injuries aside from that on his face. Although everywhere in his body that was uncovered was bloody from him trying to cover the blood in his arm and nose. He couldn't understand how the bite hurt and bled out so much, even if he only had lost, according to his smashed phone, five hearts total. The smell of the rotting, burning phantom's corpse invaded the shopping district, and he smeared blood on the concrete trying to clean himself. Great! What a lovely way to start the morning, with the smell of death itself.

He had one rocket but he took off, trying to get into his base with his terrible sense of direction. He face planted his base's cold white ground, looking at the Nokia. He had a sum of five hearts total, yet, he felt like he had only one. The fatigue was unbearable and he thought that it maybe would be because of his lack of sleep, although the stinging bite on his arm that didn’t seem like it was ever gonna stop hurting didn’t let him think properly. He was in quite a panic. He needed to cover that and cover that now. He could try to message Xisuma, although he would probably only see hours later. He could try to drink a regen potion to see if that was gonna help with the pain, but he didn’t have anything to brew one with him and he doubted it would serve as anesthetics for this terrible pain. He could try to cover it up with bandages, or he could try to fly over to Xisuma’s base to kick him in the knee until he woke up, but he had no rockets and he was on the verge of passing out right now. Embracing his lack of options and finding the sight of his arm too terrifying to watch, he closed his eyes as he passed out in the bloody floor, while the sun rose to a comfortable six in the morning, even with hearts there to back him up.

He woke up only three hours later, in a bed, sheets stained with a crimson, with the sight of a helmet with a pretty face looking worried as he was, once again, forced to drink a rose liquid as many glass bottles of what seemed to be once quite full of the same pink littered the ground. And the bleeding didn't ever stop, he thought while looking at the man beside him and his bloody hands and bloody feet and blood stained ground his feet were touching. He laughed out of wincing pain, and that was the last thing he said before having pink fill his bruises again.


End file.
